


Ten Years Gone

by saltyfirefly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 15, Always Female Dean Winchester, Always Female Sam Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Episode: s05e04 The End, Episode: s05e08 Changing Channels, Eventual Happy Ending, Male Dean Winchester, Male Sam Winchester, Multi, No Incest, Not Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Post-Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Supernatural Multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-11-24 18:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyfirefly/pseuds/saltyfirefly
Summary: In all of Chuck’s universes, there were a few storylines he apparently liked to repeat—and the Apocalypse, of course, was one of his favorites. Another one of his favorites? Throwing Dean into the future to see the consequences of saying “no” to life as an angel condom.Except this time, the alternate timeline someone gets thrown into is Sam and Dean’s.Team Free Will have to deal with alternate, younger versions of themselves trying to fend off their own Apocalypse, all while still reeling from Chuck’s snap.Oh yeah, and that other universe’s Sam and Dean? They’re not so much Sam and Dean as they are Samantha and Deana. Yikes.





	1. Freaky Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, seriously, what the hell?”
> 
> …but there it is, right in front of him. Dean isn’t Dean. Dean is…Deana.

* * *

“Dean, wake up.”

The lump on the bed doesn’t stir.

“Dean.”

Something twitches.

“DEAN!”

“Wha—what?” he grumbles from within the swathes of his motel-bedding cocoon.

“Wake up, dude. We’ve got an apocalypse to fight,” Sam says. 

“Gross. No thank you,” comes the reply. The words sound slightly off, muffled as they are from within the depths of Dean’s blanket burrito.

“I know,” Sam says. “But come on, get up. I may have found us a lead.”

Dean shuffles under the comforter.

“Ugh, how are you even awake right now?” he asks, and the whining makes his voice sound higher than normal.

“Like I said, apocalypse. Besides, you’ve got your four hours, right?”

Dean huffs. “Yeah, but I feel like I’ve got this killer hangover, and I don’t even remember drinking.”

“Alcohol can do that,” Sam says, turning back to packing up his bag. He doesn’t bother to keep the condescension out of his voice. Surely Dean is old enough to know about these consequences by now.

The blankets rustle obnoxiously as Dean rolls out of bed. Honestly, Sam’s surprised the next words out of Dean’s mouth aren’t something about memory foam and non-polyester-blend sheets.

“So I guess you changed your mind about bolting again,” Dean says, over the running sink. And—what? Sam turns around, not sure he heard right, to see Dean splash water on his face.

“All in all, I’m glad you’re back, Sammy,” Dean continues, oblivious to Sam’s confusion, and once again there’s something seriously off about his voice.

Then Dean straightens up, and catches his reflection in the mirror. Sam’s own face is visible just above his, since apparently last night Dean shrank several inches. And his hair grew a bit. And…

“Uh, Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“No, seriously, what the hell?”

…but there it is, right in front of him. Dean isn’t Dean. Dean is…Deana.

* * *

“Gender swapping, seriously? This shit’s straight out of bad fan fiction, Sammy.”

Dean—Deana—whatever—paces back and forth in front of the motel’s blocky TV. Sam swears there’s already an indention in the threadbare carpet.

“How—how are you feeling?” Sam asks, hesitantly.

“Fine. I mean, I’m kinda hungry,” Dean/Deana says. “How are you doing with all of this?”

“Me? I’m good,” Sam says. Which is only partially a lie. So his big brother suddenly woke up female. Crazier things have happened. Right?

“Huh. You’re a lot calmer than I expected you to be,” Dean/Deana says, brows pulled together in a thoughtful expression. Sam doesn’t have a chance to comment.

“Hey, you didn't eat any of that pizza leftover from last night, did you” Dean/Deana asks, striding over to the kitchenette.

“Pizza?” Sam asks, unable to help himself. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah, why?” comes the response, muffled from the other side of the open refrigerator door.

“Aren’t you worried about watching your figure?” Sam asks, not even bothering to hold back the smirk on his face. There’s a pause for a brief second before a head emerges above the refrigerator door.

“Watch it, Samuel. I can still kick your ass.”

The fridge slams shut a little more forcefully than necessary. Dean/Deana’s threat loses a little of its effect when he/she shoves half of a cold slice of pizza in their mouth, cheeks bulging out like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter.

Screw it. Female body or no, this is still clearly Dean. Sam’s just going to keep calling them Dean until they tell him differently.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam says. He waits until Dean has swallowed his massive mouthful of pizza before he continues.

“Hey, do you think maybe we should call Cas?” Sam asks, hesitantly. Dean looks up and fixes Sam with an indecipherable glance, then he shrugs one shoulder.

“Probably not a bad idea,” Dean says. His next sentence is obscured by another enormous bite of pizza.

“What?” Sam asks, with an exasperated sigh. So much for Dean having any better manners in this state.

“I said, I’m cool with it. You calling Cas, I mean. Dude had his reasons for going off on his own, same as we did,” Dean explains, mercifully with a pizza-free mouth.

“You sure?” Sam asks. If there really is peace forming between the two of them, he does’t want to jeopardize it, but Sam can’t help but feel like there’s more to what Dean feels than he’s letting on right now.

“Yeah,” Dean says, tossing pizza crust into the trash can. “I mean, the Apocalypse sucks ass, and all. But we’ll move past it. It’s the end of the freaking world, we’ve got no other choice.”

Dean probably meant for his statement to sound mature, well-adjusted, but to Sam, it sounds a little callous. Bitter. Like a not-so-deeply-buried part of Dean doesn’t really feel that way. Sam doesn’t get a chance to confront him, though, as Dean has started to walk across the motel room.

“Where are you going?” Sam asks. Dean turns around.

“Legoland,” he says, then rolls his eyes. “I have to pee, genius.”

“Oh,” Sam says. Dean has his hand on the bathroom doorknob before Sam has the courage to say what’s on his mind. “Hey, just—remember to sit, okay?”

Dean looks back over his shoulder, his face blank in a way that only happens when he’s exasperated beyond words. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it just as quickly, shakes his head, and then mumbles something along the lines of _such a friggin’ weirdo_ under his breath.

Sam waits until the bathroom door is securely closed before he pulls out his phone. It only takes a couple of rings for Cas to answer.

_“Hello, Sam,”_ the angel says.

“Hey, Cas. Are you anywhere near the bunker, by any chance?”

_“Why do you ask?”_ he replies, voice cautious.

“It’s—it’s Dean.”

There’s a fraction of a second where Cas doesn’t respond.

_“What about him?”_ Cas asks. There’s the barest hint of a strain in his voice when he speaks. Guess fighting zombies and coming out the other side alive didn’t magically fix all of their issues.

“He’s—This morning, when he woke up—he’s—“ Sam pauses, not quite sure what to say, before he decides to just say it bluntly. “Dean’s been turned into a woman.”

In the background, Sam can hear what sounds like the engine of Cas’ truck turning over.

_“I’ll be there as soon as possible,”_ Cas says, then hangs up.

A moment later, Dean comes out of the bathroom, wiping his hands off on his jeans. At least he washed his hands, Sam thinks. He’s about to ask if everything went okay, but thinks better of it. He’d rather not test Dean’s earlier theory that he could still kick his ass right now.

“So, I called Cas,” Sam says. He tries to gauge Dean’s reaction, but unfortunately, his features are still carefully schooled into something neutral.

“What’d he say?”

“Not much, just that he would meet up with us in a few hours.”

“Typical,” Dean mutters. Then, in a normal voice, he asks, “Cas say anything else?”

“No, that was pretty much it,” Sam says. “I don’t think he really wants to talk more about Jack right now.”

“Who?” Dean says, flopping down on the bed and hugging a pillow to his middle.

“Jack,” Sam repeats. Dean raises his eyebrows.

“I have no idea who that is,” he says.

“What? Are you—“ Sam cuts himself off, and takes a good look a Dean. The way he’s lying on the bed relaxes the lines of his face almost completely. His skin is smooth—too smooth, even accounting for the lack of stubble.

“Holy crap. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

“See what?” Dean asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Dean, what year is it?” Sam asks.

“What’re you talking about? It’s 2009,” he says, like he thinks Sam has lost his mind.

“Okay, this is going to sound kind of crazy to you, but I need you to roll with me here. Okay, Dean?” Sam says. So apparently his brother not only woke up female, but with no memories of the past ten years.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Dean asks, completely ignoring what Sam just said.

“Calling you what? Dean?”

“Yeah. I mean, is it payback for me calling you 'Samuel' earlier?”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asks. Was he wrong to not call Dean by Deana, instead?

“What are you talking about?” Dean repeats, but there’s no anger there, only confusion.

There’s no chance for either of them to say anything more when the motel room door swings open, to reveal Dean holding a tray of coffee and a bag of takeout. Except this Dean is the Dean that Sam saw before he went to bed last night—six feet of surly hunter, complete with boots and plaid, in need of a good night’s sleep and a shave.

This Dean dumps the coffee and takeout on the kitchenette table and has his gun out, pointed at the other Dean—girl Dean—at the same moment that he—no, she, definitely _she_—is on her feet and has her gun out and pointed at him.

Their movements are nearly indistinguishable. The guns are an exact match. Two sets of identical green eyes sweep up and down, taking in every detail of the other person’s appearance. And even though the pitch of their voices are different, the tone and inflection are the same when they speak.

“Son of a _bitch_!”

* * *


	2. Not in Kansas Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Me? Why the hell would I lie? I’m the one who woke up ten years into a future where I not only have a dick, but am a dick,” Deana says, with enough venom to poison an entire football team. 

* * *

“So—” Dean starts to say, before realizing he has no clue what to say next. He tries to cover the awkward pause by clearing his throat, but he still can’t think of what he’s supposed to say next.

“What the hell is this? ‘Cause it’s clearly more than just gender-swapping,” girl-him says, breaking the awkward silence.

“Wait, you mean you’re a dude?” Dean blurts.

“No, Sherlock. I’m a chick. Always have been. I thought Sammy was the one who turned into a dude overnight,” she replies, and holy hell, the snark on her. Whoever she is, she’s clearly channeling some Winchester-worthy levels of “the world is fucked” angst. So naturally, the next thing out of Dean’s mouth is steadfast denial of what he’s starting to suspect might be true.

“How do we know you are who you say you are?” Dean asks. 

“Me? Why the hell would I lie? I’m the one who woke up ten years into a future where I not only _have_ a dick, but _am_ a dick,” she says, with enough venom to poison an entire football team.

Dean’s eyes go wide. He looks to Sam for help, but his brother offers no help. In fact, he shrugs, and makes a face that clearly says he thinks girl-Dean has a point.

“I need some air. Shoot me if you have to,” she says, before storming out of the room.

“Great,” Sam mutters.

“Oh come on, you don’t really believe her, do you?” Dean asks, borderline incredulous. “Shit, you do, don’t you?”

“I’ve got this…feeling in my gut. Something deeper, more profound than just hunter’s intuition. I knew it the second I looked into her eyes,” Sam says, and then he adds, “They’re your eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was your daughter.”

“Well, whoever she is, we can’t let her just walk away. You coming?” Dean asks, already out of his chair and halfway to the door. He scans the parking lot, which is empty except for the Impala, a beaten-up Civic, and a tall bald dude wearing a suit. Dean blinks, and the guy disappears, leaving only Deana, who for some reason is holding a newspaper. Dean jogs over to her, Sam close on his heels.

“Was that—” Sam says.

“I think it was,” Dean replies.

“You know him too, huh?” Deana asks. She’s pale, and her face is kinda pinched, like she’s trying to hide feeling sick to her stomach. Dean knows the feeling.

“Yeah. But we killed Zachariah. Twice, actually,” Dean says, feeling a little proud of that fact.

“What?” Deana asks, brows scrunched over her—yep, dammit—green eyes.

“It’s a long story,” Sam answers.

“I bet it is. How ‘bout you start by explaining this?” Deana asks, holding up the newspaper. Dean doesn’t have to read the headline or even scan the article to see what she’s talking about. The picture of the graveyard is blurry, but it’s clearly the same one where Jack died.

“What’d Zach tell you?” Dean asks. Deana looks like she’s going to protest, but Dean speaks again before she can. “Look, I promise we’ll explain everything—or as much as we can—just tell me what he said first.”

“He said you said ‘no’ to Michael. Tried to stop the Apocalypse, and succeeded. But then you screwed it all up again and pissed someone off on a...cosmic level, whatever that means. And now the world’s ending, and as chuckles put it, ‘with no Michael or even Lucifer to set it straight.’”

“Wow.”

“He also said I had three days to figure it out before he’d take me back to 2009,” Deana adds.

“Well, isn’t that familiar,” Dean says, half under his breath.

“What?” both Sam and Deana say at the same time.

“Back in ’09, Zach plucked me from my bed and dumped me five years into the future. Sammy’d said ‘yes’ to Lucifer, Cas was a stoner, future-me was the world’s biggest douche, and the world was overrun by the Croatoan virus,” he explains. The nutshell version is all he has the patience for right now.

“Wait, so he threw you into a full-on zombie apocalypse?” Deana asks.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“And Cas was a stoner?”

“Who threw orgies, yeah,” he agrees. Deana makes a face, then shakes her head a little, like she’s trying to get that image out of her head. Which—yeah. Dean still can’t unsee that.

“You said you saw a future version of yourself,” Deana says. “What’d you tell them, to convince them you were…well, them?”

“What? Why?” Dean asks.

“Well, that happened after the Supernatural books were published, right?” Sam says, because of course he’s already caught on to whatever is happening.

“I’m so glad you’re the smart one here, too,” Deana says, looking at Sam with begrudging gratitude.

“Hey!” Dean protests. Deana quirks an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“If Deana—“ Sam starts, then looks at her for confirmation that yes, that is her name. She nods. “If she knows whatever you told future-you, and that wasn’t in the books, then—”

“Then she really is me,” Dean finishes, begrudgingly.

“So what’d you tell future-you?” Deana asks.

Dean shuffles his feet.

“I mean, I don’t think it’d be the same for you,” he says.

“Just spit it out.”

“I told him about Rhonda Hurley,” Dean says, pointedly not looking either of his companions in the eye.

“Wait—Rhonda? You mean with the pink satin panties?” Deana asks.

“Yep,” Dean confirms.

“Wait, what? Who?” Sam interjects.

“We were nineteen, and—”

“Would you shut up?” Dean says in a rush. There’s too much that’s already been revealed here in front of his brother.

“Why? What’d you do with her that’s so embarrassing?” Deana asks, looking at him curiously.

“What did you do? Wait, did you sleep with her?” Dean says.

“Yeah. Didn’t you?” she replies, like it should have been obvious.

“Awesome, even girl-me is good with the ladies,” Dean smirks.

“Easy there, Casanova. I’m about as good with them as you probably are with dudes. Which is to say awkward, at the least.”

“What?” Dean says.

“What?” Sam echoes.

“C’mon, don’t be surprised,” Deana says. “I’m you. You’re me. The similarities—”

“Would you shut up already?” Dean hisses.

_Seriously, could this get any worse?_ he thinks.

“Just tell me something—Trump’s not really President, is he?” Deana asks, gesturing at the newspaper. Sam’s pitiful puppy-eyes say enough.

* * *


	3. All Our Yesterdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam’s attempt to get information out of Deana about her parallel life is about as painless as trying to pass a kidney stone without several Vicodin.

* * *

“Uh, Deana?” Sam says, while they’re waiting for Dean to finish up at the front desk.

“Yeah?” she says, distractedly.

“I kinda feel like I should apologize,” Sam admits, and Deana’s gaze jerks up from the shiny black of the Impala.

“Why?” she asks, nonplussed.

“Well, earlier, when I thought you were Dean, I used male pronouns to refer to you. In my head.”

“Okay. So?” Deana asks, leaning against the car’s frame.

“So that wasn’t…correct. I’m sorry.”

Deana shrugs.

“It’s whatever, dude. You made an honest mistake. Besides, I totally called you ‘Samuel’ out loud when I thought you were the one who gender-swapped. That wasn’t exactly cool of me either, was it?” she reasons.

“I don’t know, but it’s fine. I’m fine, I mean,” Sam says, unable to shake the awkwardness he feels. “And—I, uh. I’m sorry for making that joke about watching your figure, I—”

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” Deana says, but she’s smiling.

* * *

Halfway back to the bunker, Dean decides to pull over for food. Sam’s eager to stretch his long legs, even if it’s just under one of the tables in the diner. Deana had insisted that if she couldn’t drive, she should at least get to ride shotgun, and the back seat was a lot more cramped than it used to be when Sam was a kid.

“If I ride in the back, I’ll get carsick,” she’d argued, “And he’ll kill you if I end up puking all over his Baby.”

The last words had been met with what Sam dubbed Dean’s _oh hell no_ expression, and Dean had promptly ordered Sam into the back seat, “Sasquatch limbs be damned.”

As soon as the gum-smacking waitress tells them to sit wherever, Deana makes a beeline for the bathroom and quickly emerges less than two minutes later.

“What?” she says, staring at Dean’s smirking expression as she slides into the booth next to him.

“Nothing. It’s just—I guess that stereotype about chicks having to pee more is true,” he says, pretending to peruse the laminated menu in his hands.

“Shut your cakehole,” Deana grumbles. The tops of her cheeks tinge pink, but there’s no other outward sign of her embarrassment. Sam doesn’t comment. It’s been a long time since he was around a girl regularly (not counting Mom), but from what he remembers, girls don’t like talking about their bathroom habits.

The squeak of the waitress’ sneakers against the tile floor announce her arrival.

“You folks ready to order?” She says, with a clearly fake, customer-pleasing smile.

“Cobb salad, please,” Sam says. The waitress pops her gum and doesn’t bother to write down his order.

“Bacon cheeseburger,” Deana says, without waiting to be prompted.

“I’ll have the same, with chili cheese fries,” Dean adds.

The waitress does a double take at their twin charming smiles.

“Sure thing. It’ll be right out,” she says, and heads back to the kitchen with a lingering glance at the two of them.

Neither Dean nor Deana notice the waitress’ look. They’re also both apparently oblivious to the way they’re both tapping out the rhythm to what Sam suspects is the drum solo from Zeppelin’s “Moby Dick” on table. Sam fights the strong urge to shake his head.

You would think, having lived a life so accustomed to the supernatural, that Sam would never be surprised when the next unbelievably crazy thing happens. But time and time again, there’s always something that knocks him flat on his ass—figuratively or literally. Just when he thinks he’s seen everything, something will inevitably pop out from around the corner and teach him a lesson. This is one of those times.

* * *

Sam’s attempt to get information out of Deana about her parallel life is about as painless as trying to pass a kidney stone without several Vicodin.

“I’m sorry, but what else do you want me to tell you that you wouldn’t already know?” Deana asks. “Chuck kinda published every detail of our private lives from the day I went to find Sammy at Stanford to the night the hellhounds came for me. Except—Oh, crap.”

“What?” Sam asks, leaning forward unconsciously.

“In the Supernatural books, everything was basically the same, except Chuck’s publisher made him change us to guys in the books,” she explains.

“Wait, what? Why?” Sam asks, a little incredulous.

Deana shrugs. “Said it wasn’t believable or something.”

“I’m having a hard time believing it,” Dean mumbles.

“What, do you think I couldn’t have done the things you did? You realize Mom was a hunter, right? And a pretty badass one, too.”

“That is true,” Sam concedes.

“Okay, fine. Don’t go all G.I. Jane on us or whatever,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “I never said I couldn’t believe a girl couldn’t do what we do. That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what _did_ you mean?” Deana demands.

“How friggin’ insane it is that there’s a chick version of me, sitting right in front of me.”

Thankfully, the waitress emerges from the diner’s kitchen with their food, and Sam shushes the others so she won’t overhear their conversation. (And so he doesn’t have to listen to more bickering.) Once again, Dean and Deana are oblivious to their identical movements as they pick up their burgers and bite into them. The only difference is that when Deana reaches for her fries, Dean picks up some that are smothered in what Sam assumes is supposed to be some kind of meat.

“Want some?” Dean says, offering some of the chili fries to his female counterpart.

“Ugh. No. Gross,” she says, nose wrinkling. Sam’s just as surprised as Dean is, but at least Sam doesn’t protest in what sounds suspiciously like righteous indignation like his brother does.

“What? These are delicious.”

“Dude, that has the same smell and consistency as ghoul brains,” Deana says, with a frown.

Dean stares at the chili fry for a second, then shrugs and eats it anyway. Deana fake-gags a little at the sight, which makes her face pale as if she were actually about to be sick. It’s both gross and impressively realistic, considering Sam is also trying to eat right now.

“Is he always like this?” Deana asks, in a stage whisper.

“Yup,” Sam says. Dean just rolls his eyes.

* * *

“So…what d’you wanna know?” Deana asks, once they’re back on the road.

“Start at the beginning, I guess,” Sam prompts. He scoots forward in his seat, eager to hear what she has to say. He’s tempted to record what she says on his cell phone, but Sam has a feeling that Deana wouldn’t like that very much.

Deana sighs, and starts to speak in a flat, almost-bored voice. “I was born January 24th, 1979. My parents were John Winchester and Mary Campbell. My sister’s name is Samantha. She goes by Sam. I like pie and Led Zeppelin and I hate planes. When I was four, a yellow-eyed demon came into my baby sister’s nursery and infected her with demon blood. Then it killed my father and burned our house down—“

“Hold up. The demon killed _Dad_ when you were a kid?” Dean interrupts, chancing a glance over at her.

“Yeah. Why?” she says. Dean doesn’t answer. His knuckles tighten almost imperceptibly on the Impala’s steering wheel.

“Here, Azazel killed our mom, and that’s why Dad became a hunter,” Sam explains, since it’s clear Dean isn’t going to.

“Huh. So does that mean the bastard made a deal with Mom, or with Dad, back in ’73?”

“Mom. She made the deal to bring Dad back. Did it not happen that way, in your…timeline—or universe—wherever?” Sam asks, curious.

“Cas did bring you back to see what happened, didn’t he?” Dean cuts in.

“He did,” Deana confirms. “And it was Dad who made the deal. Not Mom. She didn’t make her deal until—“

“Until ’06, right?” Dean says. “When the Impala got t-boned by a demon driving a semi, and you almost died?”

“Yeah.”

They talk for the better part of an hour. Most of Deana’s life seems to parallel theirs, with a few minor differences here and there, though it’s unclear whether it’s explicitly because of gender or not. Sam has a feeling that there’s a few things Deana won’t say in front of him, and a few things she also doesn’t want to say in front of Dean. For one of these things, she gets her chance when Dean makes a quick pit stop for gas.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Earlier, at the motel…you mentioned someone named Jack. Who was he?”

“He was…our kid, kinda,” Sam explains, brow furrowed. “Dean, Cas, and I took care of him, or we tried to, at least.”

Deana catches his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“I’m gonna need a little more than that, Sammy.”

“Right,” Sam says, running a hand backwards through his hair.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Deana says, echoing Sam’s earlier words.

Sam explains, in the quickest way possible, about how Jack was born and his brief time on Earth. He purposefully leaves out how exactly Jack died. It’s still too raw for him to unpack right now. Strangely, Deana goes quiet for a long moment after Sam explains.

“What happened to Jack’s mother?” she asks, barely loud enough for Sam to hear. There’s a distant look on her face that Sam can’t quite read.

“She didn’t make it. The mothers of nephilim never survive the birth,” Sam says, trying to be both gentle and detached at the same time.

“Not ever?” Deana asks. She won’t meet Sam’s gaze.

“Not that I’ve ever heard,” he confirms. The fact that this is what she’s fixating on completely baffles Sam, given that Jack was, as Dean had put it, “literally the spawn of Satan.” Sam doesn’t have a chance to puzzle it out before Dean gets back in the car, and they’re once more on their way to the bunker.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I took the chapter title name from an episode of Star Trek TOS.


	4. Someone Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You still look like you, but…a little older, if that makes sense. I mean, I’d think I’d remember if your vessel’s five o’clock shadow started to look a little salt-and-pepper, you know?”
> 
> “No, I don’t know,” Castiel says, furrowing his brows. Why would his stubble resemble table seasonings?

* * *

Sam barely has the phone to his ear when Deana interrupts him.

“Hey, is that Cas? Tell him to pick up burgers.”

“You just had one a few hours ago,” Sam gripes, before he has time to realize that he’s talking to Deana, not Dean. His snark doesn't faze her at all, though. 

“Yeah. So?” Deana says, staring at Sam like it’s _his _reluctance that’s unreasonable, instead of the request for more greasy food.

“Shouldn’t you eat something else?” he asks, more out of habit than anything.

“Sam, we literally run around hunting things that go bump in the night. I’m not sweating the carbs or whatever,” Deana says, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t walk away until he gives in and promises to pass the message along.

“Hey, I’m sorry, Cas—”

_“That’s alright,” _he says. _“I caught most of your conversation. I take it Dean hasn’t changed much, aside from his physical appearance?”_

Sam cringes. “Right, things have been so crazy, I hadn’t had a chance to mention it.”

_“Mention _ ** _what_**_, Sam?”_

Sam takes a deep breath to prepare himself for the conversation ahead.

“So, get this…”

* * *

Dean finds Deana sprawled out in one of the library’s comfier chairs, in a nook just secluded enough to not hear most of what Sam is jabbering away about on the phone. He takes the seat opposite Deana and holds out his second bottle of beer in offering.

“I’m good,” Deana says, barely glancing up from the book Dean thinks she might just be pretending to read. The wistful expression in her eyes betrays her real feelings.

(And damn, is Dean that obvious, too? He hopes not.)

“Really?” Dean asks, with a knowing look. “Kinda figured that you’d need a drink right about now.”

Deana huffs a humorless, near-soundless laugh.

“Oh, believe me. I want one really damn badly right now,” she says, thumb playing with the edges of the book. “But I, uh—I don’t drink anymore.”

“You’re kidding,” Dean says, eyebrows rising.

“Nope,” Deana answers, with a little popping sound on the _p. _“And let me tell you, it has been an absolute thrill ride.”

(And oh, that’s what that sarcastic smile looks like on the receiving end.)

“Do you do anything fun?” Dean says, shaking his head.

“I kill monsters,” she deadpans.

“Touché.” Dean chugs the rest of his beer and decides to keep Deana’s for himself. Why let it go to waste, right? Just because girl-him isn’t going to drink and thinks his chili fries are puke-worthy doesn’t mean that Dean needs to stop being awesome. Right?

(…right?)

* * *

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

_“It seems as though you have the situation under control, as it is. I see no reason why you would need my help,” _Cas tells him. _“I can’t open a portal to Deana’s universe no more than I could jump through time, at this point. I would just be a nuisance.”_

“No, Cas, you wouldn’t,” Sam protests. “Look, in Deana’s timeline, it’s ten years ago for us. She and her universe’s Sam were in Ohio, going after the Trickster.”

_“You mean Gabriel?” _Cas interjects.

“Yeah, but they haven’t learned that yet. Anyway, my point is that this Deana is basically like Dean from ten years ago. Meaning that she and you—well, Deana and her universe’s Castiel—are practically joined at the hip.”

The other end of the line is silent, so Sam continues. He can feel Cas’ resolve starting to waver.

“I mean, none of the stuff that happened when I lost my soul, and the Leviathan, Purgatory, Metatron, the Mark, and, well—everything after that hasn’t happened to them yet. We have a chance to set all that right.”

_“Sam—”_

“Besides, I don’t think any universe’s Zachariah is really powerful enough to dimension-hop. Deana and Samantha were about to take on the Trickster—to take on Gabriel. What if their universe’s Gabriel is behind all this? If that’s the case, Dean and I can’t manage this on our own.”

There’s a pause long enough that Sam wonders if the call dropped. (Cas does have this bad habit of hanging up without saying a proper goodbye.) Sam’s just about given up when the angel speaks.

_“I’ll be there within the hour. With burgers.” _And then he hangs up. 

* * *

Castiel knows her before he sets his vessel’s eyes on her. Deana’s soul is bright, despite its time in Hell, and so reminiscent of a younger, more hopeful Dean, that it makes Castiel’s heart clench. She’s alone in the library, half-dozing over an old tome with a book about angels. Castiel recognizes it as one Sam pored over obsessively before Jack was born.

“Hello, Deana,” he rumbles, and the girl straightens up in her chair.

“Hey, Cas,” she says, automatically, before she blinks and fully takes in his appearance. “Wow. You have the same vessel. And are those the same duds?”

Castiel looks down at his clothes, even though he knows they’re exactly the same ones he’s worth for quite some time.

“Not the exact same ones as when we—or I guess, Dean and I—first met, but yes, they are similar.”

“No offense, but you don’t look the same, either.”

“I suspect I don’t,” he says, with a half-smile. “Different universes, and all.”

“No, it’s not that,” Deana says. “You still look like you, but…a little older, if that makes sense. I mean, I’d think I’d remember if your vessel’s five o’clock shadow started to look a little salt-and-pepper, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Castiel says, furrowing his brows. Why would his stubble resemble table seasonings?

“Don’t worry about it,” Deana replies, waving a hand dismissively.

“I—Alright.”

Castiel doesn’t know what to make of her behavior. Deana is brusque, just like Dean normally is, but there’s no sign of the hostility Castiel had recently gotten from the hunter.

“You know, you’re the only one who hasn’t totally freaked out about the whole I’m-a-female thing, you know?” Deana comments.

“I once had a female vessel,” Castiel says. Deana looks intrigued, but Castiel keeps talking before she can open her mouth to speak. “Besides, my grace recognized your soul.”

It had called to him the moment he set foot in the bunker. 

“It did?” Deana asks, nose wrinkling in confusion. “But we’ve never met.”

“We haven’t, but I do know you, or a version of you. Your soul, your essence, knows mine. It appears that transcends timelines, or universes. We couldn’t exactly test that theory in Apocalypse World, but—”

“Apoca-what-now?” Deana interrupts. 

“Perhaps you should ask Sam,” Castiel says, with a frown. He’s not really ready to explain how Jack’s birth ripped a hole in the universe, not so soon after Jack’s death.

“I brought food,” Castiel says, holding up the paper bag he’d nearly forgotten about. As he expected, it distracts Deana.

“Oh, awesome,” Deana says, haphazardly setting the book on a side table. As she gets up, she wraps the sides of her oversized plaid shirt closer to her middle. It’s not one of Dean’s typical gestures, otherwise Castiel would never have noticed.

“Thanks, Cas,” she says, through a mouthful of cheeseburger. 

“I, uh, also got some chili fries,” Castiel says, pulling the item in question out of a second paper bag. “This universe’s Dean is fond of them, and I thought perhaps you would be as well.”

To his surprise, Deana makes a face when Castiel starts to uncover the fries.

“Thanks, Cas, but I’ll pass,” she says.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Seriously, it looks like something a werewolf regurgitated. Oh God, now I’m picturing that. Oh no. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts…”

Deana sets the burger down on the table and presses the back of her hand to her mouth. Immediately, Castiel is alarmed, as it actually looks like Deana is about to have a visceral reaction to the sight of the chili fries.

“Here, let me—”

Castiel stretches out a hand to her forehead to try and relieve her sudden nausea. 

“Wait, what are you—Oh. Thanks, Cas. Wow. I’m actually hungry again,” Deana says, picking the burger back up. The tin foil crinkles, and it shines nearly as bright as Deana’s smile under the bunker’s fluorescent lighting. But Castiel felt more than Deana’s relief, more than her emotions when he eased her discomfort. There was something greater, something brighter present, something more shining than the light of her soul. And it absolutely terrifies him.

Deana catches Castiel’s eye and she hesitates, not taking the bite she was about to take. Her smile evaporates, and her eyes widen.

“Does he know?” Castiel asks, low and urgent. He doesn’t need to say more.

“No,” Deana says. “I don't think so. I mean, I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure…not until now.”

Her eyes are even more brilliantly green when they’re swimming with unshed tears.

“Cas, it’s gonna kill me, isn’t it?” Deana whispers.

All Castiel wants is to tell her no, but he can’t. Instead, he opens his arms, and lets Deana bury her face in the folds of his coat.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure something out. We always do,” he murmurs, lips close to the top of her head.

Castiel hopes that it isn’t a lie. Sam was right, earlier. There are things they need to set right a second time around. 

* * *


	5. White Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s like looking into a sick parody of a funhouse mirror. Deana stands on one side of the table, eyes red-rimmed and desperate. Dean sits across from her, and every part of his body screams helplessness.

* * *

They really should have known better by now. Saying you’re going to set things right is one thing. Actually figuring out how is another thing entirely.

Deana has them go over again and again what happened in their timeline, from the moment it deviated from hers. Sam takes notes. Dean sips his beer and adds the occasional comment, some snide, some helpful. Cas is characteristically quiet, but it’s clear to Sam that he’s deep in thought about something.

They’ve just gotten to when they fought the Whore of Babylon, and Dean tried to sneak away to say ‘yes’ to the angels, when Deana starts to pace back and forth.

“I can’t say ‘yes’ to Michael,” she says. “Even if it meant saving Sammy, I couldn’t do it. I physically couldn’t.”

“I said yes. In different circumstances,” Dean says, and he explains in the briefest of words about Apocalypse!Michael’s bargain. That finally jerks Cas out of his reverie, and he turns his stony gaze upon the older Winchester.

Dean hunches his shoulders. ”Look, I did it because it was my only option at the time. But Michael—he went back on his word, and he did a lotta bad. So I’m telling you, that’s not the right path.”

“Then what other way is there?” Deana asks.

“I don’t know,” Dean admits wearily.

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? You _have_ to know. There has to be another way,” Deana says. She finally stops pacing. “Dean? Tell me there’s another way.”

“Deana—“

“No, you _tell _me,” she interrupts. Her eyes are blazing emeralds. “Tell me there’s a way to get out of this that doesn’t end with my little sister saying ‘yes’ to the Devil. Tell me there’s a way out of this where she doesn’t end up locked in a cage forever, or where she doesn’t lose her soul. Tell me there’s a light for her at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. Tell me she makes it out of this. Tell me. Please.”

It’s like looking into a sick parody of a funhouse mirror. Deana stands on one side of the table, eyes red-rimmed and desperate. Dean sits across from her, and every part of his body screams helplessness.

“I can’t,” he says, voice wavering just a fraction. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Dammit!”

Sam jumps, not at Deana’s yell, but from the sudden crash of the books she swipes off the table.

“Deana, it’ll be alright—“ Cas starts to say.

“No, it won’t,” she says, then looks all three of them in the eyes one by one. “You say we have six months ’til the end of the world, right?”

Sam nods.

“Well, I don’t have that long. So you tell me how to save my sister. Tell me!” she says, slamming her palm on the table. 

Silence rings throughout the library.

“Deana, what aren’t you telling us?” Sam asks, in as calm a voice as he can manage.

“I—“ She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m pregnant.”

“You—what?!” Sam and Dean blurt at the same time.

“You want me to say it in Spanish?” she deadpans.

“Well, shit,” Dean says.

* * *

“But—who’s the father?” Sam inquires, once he’s found his voice. Dean still can’t bring himself to say anything. He feels like one of the old PCs you find in public libraries, the ones that buffer for ten solid minutes before your page loads.

Deana’s eyes flicker once over to Castiel. He remains as stoic as ever. Only the slight twitch of his jaw gives the angel away. Suddenly Dean’s brain comes back online.

“It’s Cas, isn’t it?” Dean asks. Sam turns his head sharply.

“What?” Sam says, thoroughly taken aback.

“Yeah,” Deana says. She slumps into one of the library chairs, apparently relieved that the secret is out.

“How did—?” Sam starts, but Dean cuts him off.

“It was Maine, wasn’t it?” Dean says, though deep down, he already knows the answer. Deana gives him a half-smile, melancholy in its confirmation.

“You made the same promise, too, didn’t you?” she asks quietly. “That’s how you knew?”

“What promise? What’s going on?” Sam demands, eyes going back and forth between the others like he’s trying to watch a ping pong match underwater.

“You never told your Sammy either, I’m guessing,” Deana says, with a quirked eyebrow.

Dean shrugs. What else is there to say? She already knows his reasons.

“Guys, seriously?” Sam asks, leaning forward.

“I believe they are referring to their promise to not let me die a virgin,” Cas says. Sam whips his head around, eyes bugging wide enough to pop out of his face.

“What?! You and Cas—are you freaking kidding me—What the—”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean and Deana say simultaneously. Sam’s mouth gapes open and closed, like a fish, as he struggles to find the words.

“Back in 2009, when you and Sam were—I believe Dean called it ‘taking separate vacations’—after the final seal was broken. I came to him and asked him for his help in interrogating Raphael,” Castiel explains. “I thought it unlikely to survive. Dean asked me what my plans were for my last night on Earth, and he surmised the fact that I was, at that point, a virgin.”

“At first, I tried to take him to a—what did you call it? A ‘den of iniquity’?” Dean says, with a small smirk in Cas’ direction.

“Yes. You said that iniquity was one of the perks of rebelling,” Castiel adds, with a fond smile.

“Then he told the girl—what was her name?” Deana says.

“Chastity,” Dean supplies.

“Right, he told her that it wasn’t her fault that her father ran off,” Deana continues. “He hated his job at the post office.”

“So then we had to scram, before security kicked us out—” Dean says, unable to help the broad grin spreading across his face.

“And I knew it would be hopeless to try and take Cas to a bar to try and pick someone up—” Deana says, with a shrug.

“So we went back to the abandoned house we were staying at, and, well…” Dean says, letting the sentence trail off.

“You made good on your promise to not let me die a virgin,” Castiel finishes.

“Yup,” Deana agrees.

Sam is still sitting frozen. Dean clears his throat, then takes pity on his younger brother and finishes the story, leaving out all the non-PG-rated bits.

“Then we trapped Raphael in holy fire and Cas called him his ‘little bitch.’ It was—”

“Awesome,” Deana says. But the mirth has disappeared from her eyes.

“And you couldn’t have used a condom?” Dean asks, voice coming out a bit more accusatory than he meant.

“I didn’t think I’d have to. He was a friggin’ virgin, and I was on the pill.”

“But then…how—?” Sam asks, still flabbergasted.

“I don’t know. Angel mojo trumps estrogen and progestin?” Deana guesses, with a shrug of her shoulders. “What, you think this is a freaking picnic for me? I can’t keep anything down besides burgers, PB & J, and waffles. I can’t even look at pie without feeling ill. Pie, dude. _Pie_. And when we were at the gas station, I had a craving for pork rinds of all things. Normally, I’d think they were the grossest thing since the clumps of hair Sammy leaves in the shower drain. But not now, apparently. Oh, and I have less than four months to live, because chances are, I won't survive giving birth to a half-angelic child.”

Deana flops her head down on the table, burying her face in her arms. Sam starts to reach out an arm, like he's going to pat her on the back, but he withdraws his hand.

“Hey,” Dean says, surprisingly calm. Deana looks up. “It’s gonna be okay, kid. We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will. I promise.”

There’s still doubt in her eyes, but Deana nods anyway.

* * *


	6. Meanwhile, Over the Rainbow...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’ll find a way to do it myself,” Samantha says, “And then as my ever-so eloquent sister would put it, we’ll dunk you in holy oil and Kentucky-fry your feathery ass.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, this chapter takes place in Deana and Samantha's universe. 
> 
> (Also, many apologies for not updating sooner. Life happened.)

* * *

“Cas, you okay?”

“I don’t have much time—” Cas says breathlessly, bursting through the fake motel door.

“What happened?” Samantha demands.

“Listen to me! Something is not right, this thing is much more powerful than it should be—”

“What thing, the Trickster?” Deana asks.

“If it—Wait.” Cas stares at Deana, eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“Sam, that’s not—” Cas starts, but the rest of his words are cut off with an oomph as he’s flung into the cardboard façade of a wall. The ugly wallpapered flowers crumple into the neon background as the set buckles under Castiel’s weight.

Out of nowhere, a jaunty guitar riff plays. The Trickster enters the motel set to canned applause and a couple wolf-whistles. He fake bows to his invisible and nonexistent audience.

Cas struggles to his feet. There’s duct tape slapped across his mouth, which surely isn’t enough to hobble even a falling angel like Cas, but he’s still struck dumb. Cas’ rage-filled eyes are directed, not at the Trickster, but straight at Deanna.

Samantha glances over, and it’s slight, but she sees it: the absolutely blank expression on Deana’s face, perfectly poised and waiting like a marionette with invisible strings. And Samantha gets what Cas was trying to say when the Trickster waves him away.

* * *

“Well played, Samantha. Where’d you get the holy fire?” the Trickster asks, arms crossed and with an expression of begrudging pride on his face. It’s the same look pet owners get when they realize their dog does a trick on purpose in the hopes of getting a treat.

“Bite me.”

“Maybe later,” the Trickster returns.

“Gross,” Samantha says.

“So where’d I screw up?”

“You didn’t,” Deana says. “Nobody gets the jump on Cas like that.”

“Speaking of, how about you bring him back?” Samantha asks. Her heart thuds. It all rides on this; she can’t take on this guy alone.

The Trickster snaps his fingers and Cas appears, battered and breathing hard, but thankfully whole.

“Cas, you okay?” Deana asks, but doesn’t move, doesn’t step imperceptibly closer to the angel like she normal would have. Neither does Castiel gravitate towards her. Samantha curses internally. She should have seen this earlier, back on that stupid Japanese game show.

“Cas?” she says.

“I’m fine. Hello, Gabriel,” he says, staring right at the Trickster. And wait, what? The Trickster’s not just an angel, but an archangel?

“Hey, bro. How’s the search for Daddy going. Let me guess: awful.”

“Bring her back,” Castiel demands, ignoring Gabriel’s mocking tone.

“Bring who where now?”

“Deanna. Bring her back from wherever you stashed her. The real her, Gabriel. I’ll know.”

A guilty look flashes over the archangel’s face. The fake Deana vanishes with a flick of old-fashioned TV static.

“Sorry, kids. No can do,” Gabriel says.

Castiel steps towards him, angel blade withdrawn, and Samantha barely manages to catch his sleeve in time to prevent Cas from stepping right into the line of holy fire.

“Give her back to us, Gabriel, or so help me—” he snarls.

“You’ll what?” Gabriel taunts.

“We’ll find a way to do it myself,” Samantha says, “And then as my ever-so eloquent sister would put it, we’ll dunk you in holy oil and Kentucky-fry your feathery ass.”

“I can’t, alight? I don’t know where she is!” Gabriel blurts. “I didn’t mean to lose her, I swear. I tried to poof her into my own little idiot box, but only Sammy here made the jump. So, I created a fake Deana to interact with little sis and buy myself some time to find big sis. Obviously, Castiel here there a wrench into my plans, but you’re good at that, aren’t you Cassie?”

“So then where is she?”

“Best guess? An alternate universe.”

“Wait, you mean like the time loop you made for me back in Florida?”

“Not quite. This isn’t one of my sandbox experiments. It’s one of the big guy’s. You know, dear old Dad?”

“He created another universe?” Castiel asks, aghast.

“Universes, plural,” Gabriel corrects. “There’s one where the Winchester siblings were never born, one where Cassie here is an orgy-loving hippie, one where there’s no yellow, blah blah blah. My favorite’s probably the one with just squirrels. That one gets a bit nutty.”

“But you can get Deana back, right?” Samantha asks, ears not really registering anything other than the Where’s Deana? part of the conversation.

“I don’t know. It takes serious mojo to universe-hop like that.”

“Do you even know if Deana is alive?”

“Uh…maybe? All of Dad’s universes tend to end with a version of Samantha killing a version of Deana, or vice versa, and that hasn’t happened here yet, so…”

“I’m going to deep fry you,” Castiel growls. 

“Wait wait wait a second, I never said I couldn’t get Deana back. I said I didn’t know. I might be able to, if I knew how she dimension-hopped in the first place.”

“What do you need?” Samantha asks.

“Tell me everything you might have noticed being different or off about Deana, starting with the morning I popped you into TV Land. Oh, and maybe douse the holy fire?”

“Well,” Samantha says pensively. “She did throw up that morning.”

“Deana was ill?” Cas asks, brow furrowing.

“Then let’s start with the motel room!” Gabriel declares, with a clap of his hands.

* * *

“You do realized she flushed, right?”

“We’re looking for clues, Samsquatch. Things that might have led to the barfing, not the actual barf itself. I’m not actually a doctor,” Gabriel says, whispering conspiratorially. “Just play one on TV.”

“You need new jokes,” Samantha replies.

“Humans often experience emesis after excessive alcohol consumption, correct?” Castiel asks, picking a beer bottle out of the trash can. “Is it possible that Deana had a hangover? But if I recall correctly, it takes more than…three beers to incapacitate her.”

“No, uh, those were mine,” Samantha admits, shuffling through a stack of papers and trying not to feel like the search of their room is utterly fruitless.

“So then where are Dee-Dee’s empties?” Gabriel asks, leaning against the dingy wall.

“She didn’t have any last night. Actually, I don’t think I’ve seen her drink for a few weeks now,” Samantha says.

“Why would Deana have need of small tubular-shaped pieces of cotton wrapped in plastic?” Castiel muses, in the middle of digging through Deana’s toiletry bag.

“How about we—yeah, let’s not go through my sister’s tampons,” Samantha says, hurriedly taking the bag out of Cas’ hands.

“Oh. Yes. I recall now. Tampons. For menstruation,” Castiel says, nodding sagely, though there’s a blush rapidly spreading across his cheeks.

“Look at you, baby bro. All wise to the world,” Gabriel says, taking out a sucker from nowhere and smacking on it obnoxiously.

“I did spend several weeks traveling with Deana. She was very knowledgeable about human females and their anatomy.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Gabriel snorts, speaking around the piece of candy. “You got her cycle tracked out, now?”

“Deana threatened to shove the tampons into one of my vessel’s orifices that I don’t think is meant for a female sanitary product if I ever talked about her menstrual cycle aloud. Although, if it is relevant to your investigation, I can tell you that her last cycle was approximately forty-six days ago.”

“Come again?” Samantha asks.

“I believe Deana’s exact threat used the words ‘lily-white asshole,’ but—”

“No, about her period," Samantha says. Then she adds, more to herself than anyone else, "How is discussing this with my sister’s best friend, the angel, and his archangel older brother real life?” 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but according to my math…based on what Cassie says, then that means Deana is late,” Gabriel says.

“Dee’s never late,” Samantha says. “Not that late. But come to think of it, I haven’t noticed it being her time of the month. And I would know. She always gets the worst cramps.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that immaculate conception isn’t in the cards this time,” Gabriel says. His sucker hangs limply from his fingers, forgotten now.

“Are you—are you suggesting that Deana is with child?” Castiel asks, bewildered.

“Might be. Or I could be wildly speculating. Still wouldn’t explain how she managed to somehow make a portal to another universe, not unless the bun in her oven has supernatural mojo out the wazoo.”

“You mean if the baby’s father was supernatural?” Samantha clarifies. “C’mon, this is Deana we’re talking about. Besides, what kind of creature would have that kind of juice?”

“An nephilim,” Castiel suggests. His face is chalky pale and his hands have begun to tremble uncharacteristically.

“Cassie? Something you wanna tell us?” Gabriel asks.

“I—” Cas starts, but then his eyes roll back in his head.

“I didn’t know angels could faint,” Samantha says, right before the panic sets in.

* * *


	7. On the Wings of Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam drops the book of angel lore. Swift hands catch it before it can hit the ground, and Sam finds himself staring down into the whiskey-colored eyes of a certain archangel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey... *waves sheepishly*
> 
> So...I know I left this fic alone for a while...My only excuse is that I was too busy dealing with my own issues to focus on the problems of fictional characters. Anyway, here's an update.

* * *

“That’s disgusting,” Dean says, wrinkling his nose. “No, it’s worse than that. It’s a goddamned atrocity.”

Deana rolls her eyes. “It’s just peanut butter.”

“On a hamburger! Those aren’t supposed to mix,” Dean protests. Sam smirks from across the table. He hasn’t seen Dean so offended over something so trivial since…well, a really long time. It’s a refreshing change from their new normal.

“I was quite fond of peanut butter, when I was human,” Castiel pipes up. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that hasn’t been there since Jack lost his soul. If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d think the angel was teasing Dean.

“You eat it, then,” Dean grumps, pushing his untouched, peanut butter-slathered burger across the table.

Cas picks up the burger and sniffs it cautiously. He sticks out his tongue to lick some peanut butter off the bun. Dean gulps, almost audibly. Sam side-eyes Deana. She’s not even bothering to hide her smirk. Castiel takes a bite of the burger and his eyes widen comically. He looks over at Deana with an amazed expression.

“Good, huh?” she says.

Dean’s jaw practically hits the floor.

“You’re shitting me.”

“It doesn’t completely taste like molecules,” Cas says wondrously, then takes an enormous bite and actually groans with happiness.

Dean blinks rapidly and shifts in his seat, and _nope, _Sam’s outta there. He makes an excuse to get another book on angel lore from the stacks.

Sam's so preoccupied trying to choose a plausible book to come back with that he doesn’t realize he’s not alone.

“Oh my Dad. Look at those legs! They go for _miles_.” 

Sam drops the copy of _A Theoretical Analysis of the First and Second Books of Enoch_. Swift hands catch the book before it can hit the floor, and Sam finds himself staring down into the whiskey-colored eyes of a certain archangel.

“Is it weird that I kinda want to climb you?” Gabriel asks.

“What?!”

“Just kidding, big boy.” Gabriel pats Sam on the arm. “Just wanted to make sure this is the right universe. You do have a certain wayward Winchester somewhere around here, don’t you?”

“Uh…yeah. You mean Deana, right?” Sam asks, still completely bewildered by Gabriel’s sudden appearance. The archangel rolls his eyes.

“Obviously, since I’ve got Samantha waiting for me back in her ‘verse,” Gabriel says. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait—”

There’s a burst of laughter from the other room. Sam turns his head automatically at the sound, and when he spins back around, Gabriel is gone.

* * *

“I don’t know, he was there one minute, and gone the next.”

“And you’re sure it was actually Gabriel?”

“Positive,” Sam says grimly. Dean opens his mouth to argue, but stops, distracted by something over Sam’s shoulder.

An orange line appears in mid air, crackling with energy. Sam shields his eyes from a flash of light, and Gabriel steps out of nowhere.

“See? I told you I’d be back,” he says smugly.

There’s a second flash of light, and a young woman appears behind Gabriel. She’s tall and athletic-looking, with long legs and broad shoulders. Her straight brown hair falls nearly to the waist of her jeans. She looks around the bunker’s library with fascination. Her hazel eyes land on Sam, and they widen with recognition at the same time that Sam’s do.

“Samantha?” he asks, right as Deana calls, “Sammy!”

The women rush to embrace each other.

“Dee—thank God, I was so worried!” Samantha says, pulling back. The look on her face reminds Sam of a lost puppy, and—Oh. So _that’s_ what he looks like.

Light flashes for a third time. Gabriel snaps his fingers, and the portal behind the last visitor disappears. The spitting image of Castiel from ten years ago stands still as a statue, his hair askew and signature blue tie backwards.

“Deana?”

She turns, eyes softening at the sight of her angel. It’s the exact same look that Sam's seen on Dean’s face when he doesn’t think anyone can see him staring at Cas.

Deana and the other Castiel gravitate towards one another like magnets. He puts a hand gently over the barely-noticeable swell of Deana’s belly, and gasps.

“Surprise?” Deana says, then bites her bottom lip. The other Castiel stares at her with awed, slightly frightened blue eyes, and before anyone can look away, he and Deana are kissing.

“Jesus Christ!” both Sams say.

Castiel tilts his head curiously. Dean looks like someone has just whacked him on the head with a mallet. Gabriel eyes the proceedings with unabashed amusement, like he’s watching a new episode of his favorite television program. Samantha snaps out of it first.

“Hey!” she says, whacking her sister on the head with a stack of loose notes. “Knock it off!”

Both Deana and the other Castiel’s lips are red when they pull apart.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Deana says sheepishly.

“Why don’t you go talk somewhere privately?” Sam suggests. He glances over at his brother. Dean is still dumbstruck.

“Great idea,” Deana says.

“You can talk in my bedroom,” Castiel offers graciously. “Deana knows where it is. She’s been using it, since I don’t actually need to sleep.”

“You don’t stay with Dean?” other-Castiel asks inquisitively.

“No, not anymore.”

“Wait, _what_?”

Sam whirls, looking between Dean and Cas like they’ve both suddenly sprouted tentacles. Dean shifts his feet guiltily, but Castiel still looks completely unfazed.

“I apologize, Sam. Now you know that Dean and I used to have a romantic history, there’s no point in pretending otherwise. We set up my bedroom just for show.”

“What do you mean, ‘used to?’” other-Castiel asks, complete with air quotes.

Castiel’s eyes narrow slightly.

“Uh-oh, baby bro’s pissed. I smell draaama,” Gabriel says, sing-songing the last word. Sam and Samantha both shoot him their very best bitch faces.

Dean stares at the floor, arms crossed defensively, slightly red in the face. Castiel heaves a sigh.

“We haven’t been intimate since Dean told me that I was dead to him. I effectively considered it a break-up.”

“You said _what_?” Deana yells, stepping forward.

“You don’t know the whole story—” Dean starts, but he’s interrupted.

“I don’t give a fuck! He literally raised you from hell—he’s the best friend you’ve ever had besides Sam—he _loves_ you, for Chrissakes! I would know. I’m you, remember?”

“You don’t unders—”

Deana’s fist smashes into Dean’s face. Sam swears he can hear the cartilage crunch from where he’s standing. Blood drips from Dean’s nostrils and into his gaping mouth.

“Shit,” Sam mumbles, but other-Castiel has wrapped his arms around Deana’s chest. She doesn’t stop screaming obscenities at Dean while other-Cas pulls her away. The two Castiels make eye contact, and Sam suspects they must be communicating telepathically, because other-Cas nods and hauls Deana through the door and down the hallway towards Castiel’s room. Everyone can clearly hear Deana’s shouts of _“I’m gonna kick that motherfucker’s ass straight back to hell! Let me go, goddammit!”_

Once they’re out of earshot, Gabriel pretends to wipe imaginary sweat of his brow and says, “Whew. That was intense!”

“I prob’ly deserved dat,” Dean says thickly. He feels the bridge of his nose and winces. At least it appears to have stopped bleeding.

“I can fix—”

Dean waves away Castiel’s offer to help.

“’S fine,” he says, and trudges off to the kitchen in search of some ice.

Samantha shoots Sam a questioning look, but he just shakes his head. He doesn’t have answers, either.

* * *

Deana and the other Cas, who Dean decides to mentally call Cas-2, don’t reappear until bag of frozen peas Dean used as an ice pack has long since defrosted. Cas-2’s hair looks even more windswept than usual, and the edge of a hickey is just visible under Deana’s collar. Dean shoves aside the thoughts of how incredibly hot his Cas always was any time they ever had angry sex, or make-up sex, or both.

_No_, Dean chides himself. _Not my Cas, not anymore._

He can feel his face falling into a melancholy frown, but hopefully it’s mostly masked by the blossoming bruises of a wicked black eye.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean says, when Deana tries to apologies. “I get it. Awesome right hook, though.”

Boy-Sam and girl-Sam take turns catching the others up on their new ideas. Both Deana and Cas-2 agree there’s no way that Zachariah is powerful enough to have zapped her into a new universe.

“He’s probably just following some kind of instructions Daddy Dearest put into his brain,” Gabriel suggests, eating the last of the rocky road ice cream like it’s his natural-born right.

“It’s highly likely that he doesn’t truly comprehend the magic he’s using, either,” Castiel adds.

“Or—and this is just a theory—but it’s possible Deana triggered some sort of predetermined chain of reactions, like in a computer program, when she appeared in our universe,” Sam says. “So the Zachariah she saw could’ve been more like a projection than the real deal.”

“And,” Gabriel continues, “I do think the nephilim reacted instinctively when I tried to put Deana in TV land. Its powers aren’t fully developed. They shouldn’t have even manifested yet, but I must have triggered its protective reflexes by accident.”

“Speaking of…” Deana says, looking at Cas-2.

“We’ve decided to attempt a grace extraction once Deana reaches her third trimester.”

“Are you sure? When Lucifer cut out Jack’s grace, he wasn’t just mortal. He was dying. He _did_ die,” Sam reminds them.

“We have to try,” Deana says.

“And we can always restore his grace,” Cas-2 adds. “The problem is how Deana will survive the birth, not whether our child is a nephilim.”

“Then I guess it’s settled?” Samantha asks, looking around the kitchen table.

* * *

Sam hands over a bag full of notes and copies of various books on angel lore, as well as the necessary supplies for a grace extraction. There’s a heavy feeling in his gut, but he tries to ignore it. At least this Team Free Will has more information than they did. With any luck, they just might succeed.

Gabriel re-opens the portal to their universe. Sam is highly tempted to follow Samantha through the portal. He stays where he is though, right by Dean’s side. Sam accepts Deana’s awkward, one-armed hug, more of a thump on the back than anything else. She throws her arms around Dean’s neck next, whispering something to him that Sam can’t catch.

Deana whispers something to Castiel as well. Whatever it is makes his brows furrow thoughtfully. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Deana kisses Cas squarely on the lips. He appears completely dazed for half a nanosecond, then tentatively returns the kiss. When they pull apart, Cas shoots a guilty look at the other Castiel, but all that Cas does is smile knowingly at Deana and offer her his hand.

“Thanks for everything,” Deana says, with a casual, two-fingered salute in their direction. She and the other Castiel step through the portal, hand-in-hand.

“Well.” Gabriel rubs his hands together. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

He winks. There’s a flash of light, and he’s gone.

Sam looks over at the mess of papers and books covering the library table and sighs. He might as well clean up now. There’s no way in hell Dean will do it.

“Hey Cas? D’you wanna maybe go for a drive?” Dean asks, a little uncertainly. Sam pretends to be highly focused on organizing a stack of papers.

“I would like that,” Cas replies.

Sam waits until he’s positive that the others are in the garage before he _whoops_ in delight.

“Finally!” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. According to my SO, peanut butter on a hamburger is actually pretty good. Just don't put cheese on it at the same time, because (in their words), "that's just wrong." Personally, I refused to defile a perfectly good hamburger, so we'll have to take their word for it.


	8. Winchester Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey Cas,” Deana says, eyes fixed on the bright fluorescent lighting high above. “Hope you got your ears on, ‘cause me and Sammy are in a bit of trouble—”
> 
> One of the shoppers screams hysterically.
> 
> “Okay, maybe a _lot _ of trouble,” Deana amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't tag this to avoid spoilers, but just in case it makes you feel squicky, here's your heads-up: This chapter is from Deana's POV while she's extremely pregnant.

* * *

“I told you this was a bad idea!” Samantha yells, ducking behind a stand of disgusting green vegetables.

“Oh, good for you.”

Deana pokes her head out into the aisle, then pulls back as a box of pre-packaged sugar cookies goes flying in her direction.

“How the hell was I supposed to know there would be _demons_ in Walmart?” Deana hisses. The dull ache in her lower back has been making her cranky all day, and this situation certainly wasn’t helping her mood.

Samantha makes a break for it, nearly slipping on a puddle of orange soda. She skids to a halt next to her older sister and shoots Deana one of her patented sassy looks.

“It’s a corporate superstore! Don’t tell me there’s never been any evil here,” Samantha says.

“Whatever,” Deana mutters. She raises the demon blade, angling it to try and get a reflection of what’s happening on the other side of the shelves.

“See anything?”

“Yeah, looks like it’s a couple cashiers and one of the stock boys. I think they’re just wreaking havoc for shits and giggles.”

“You can’t possibly think this is just a coincidence,” Samantha whispers.

Deana shrugs. The baby kicks fiercely somewhere near her liver, and Deana bites the inside of her cheek to keep from wincing. Kid has been acting up all week, ever since Cas extracted the majority of its grace. You’d think it were throwing a temper tantrum in protest, the way it kept kicking her. Or maybe it was just the presence of something supernatural nearby, even if the demons were acting more like little shits than the thing from _The Exorcist._

An industrial-sized bag of pink frosting explodes in a middle-aged woman’s face. The possessed stock boy cackles with perverse delight.

“I say we make a run for it,” Deana suggests. “Call Bobby, let him take care of it.”

“Run?” Samantha scoffed. “You get winded getting up from the couch.”

“You try carrying around a thing the size of a watermelon in your uterus and see how you like it!” Deana snaps. Why the hell did she hide in the row with all the peanut butter? The damn things were making her hangry.

“The fetus is actually probably closer to a pumpkin, according to—”

_CRASH!_

An entire stand of dill pickles smashes into the refrigerated lunch meat. Glass and pickle juice fly everywhere. The smell of vinegar hits Deana’s nostrils, and she gags.

“Dee? Oh shit!”

Samantha grabs an abandoned reusable shopping bag just in time for Deana to hurl all over someone’s box of quinoa and a frozen package of edamame. Something sharp stabs at her abdomen, and the pain makes her wretch again.

“Okay, that’s it. You’ve got to call Cas,” Samantha says, sounding both sympathetic and demanding at the same time. She hands Deana a pocket-sized package of tissues and some mints from her crossbody purse.

Deana nods weakly, wipes her face, and pops half the box of Tic-Tacs into her mouth. The baby kicks harder against her stomach. A shooting pain ripples from Deana’s sternum all the way down her abdomen. She takes a deep breath and waits for the strange feeling to pass.

“Hey Cas,” Deana says a moment later, eyes fixed on the bright fluorescent lighting high above. She wraps a hand over her belly, but the pains seem to have stopped for now. “Hope you got your ears on, ‘cause me and Sammy are in a bit of trouble at the Sioux Falls Walmart—”

One of the shoppers screams hysterically. Soup cans _thunk_ against the far wall of the store.

_“_Okay, maybe a _lot_ of trouble,” Deana amends. “There’s some demons going apeshit here. You can yell at me later for leaving Bobby’s, just please hurry. Baby momma out.” 

“C’mon, let’s go!” Samantha whispers urgently, tugging at the hem of Deana’s jacket.

“We’ve got to help them,” Deana insists, waving a hand in the general direction of the trapped shoppers.

“How?”

Deana jerks her head towards the exit. “Go get the doors open. I’ve got a plan.”

“Dee—”

But Deana turns and steps into the main aisle, arms spread wide in invitation, demon blade held high.

“Hey there demons!” she calls. “It’s me, ya girl!”

Black eyes narrow in confusion, and oh yeah, that isn’t a thing yet. Maybe Deana did look up too many memes on dude-Sam’s computer.

“Dee, no!” Samantha cries out.

“Go!” Deana says. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see her sister hesitate, then sprint up the aisle with her long moosey legs.

“Winchester!” one of the demons shouts. “Guess that’s why we haven’t seen you around. Who knocked you up?”

“She was probably too drunk to remember,” the other demon jeers. But shit, where was the other one? Deana counted at least three when she snuck a peek earlier.

Strong hands seize Deana’s arms from behind, and her nose is assaulted with the stench of sulfur. 

“Let go,” she says, panic and bile rising in her throat.

“Yeah, right, like I’m—ewwww!”

The demon jumps back, but not before Deana barfs up the rest of her dinner.

“Girl, that’s nasty,” the demon says.

“So are your pimples,” Deana shoots back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Before the demon can react, Deana plunges the demon blade into his heart. Any twinge of regret for the poor bastard of a meatsuit is quickly forgotten. Deana doubles over, face contorted with agony as she tries to breathe through the biggest wave of pain yet. Her vision nearly whites out for a second, and when it refocuses, the first thing she sees is a small puddle between her boots that's definitely not pee.

“Oh _fuck_ no,” Deana says. No way is she going to be like Natalie Portman in _Where The Heart Is. _(And yeah, she’s seen that, so sue her.)

The other demons ran off like cowards when their companion was stabbed, but Deana is past caring about them.

“Castiel, get your feathery ass over here right now!” Deana yells. There’s a faint _whoosh_, and the angel materializes next to her.

“There are at least five Walmarts in the greater Sioux Falls area, why didn’t you specify—”

Cas’ words are drowned out by the high-pitched wail ripped from Deana’s throat. She clenches the fabric of Cas’ trench coat, dizzy with the pain.

“The baby—” Deana gasps. “Fuck!”

Cas, surprisingly calm, cups her face with his hands.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he says.

The world spins. Deana blinks. Rays of evening sun filter through the grimy windows of Bobby’s living room.

“I will be right back with your sister,” Cas promises, kissing Deana’s sweaty forehead.

“No, Cas—”

But he’s already gone.

“Son of a bitch!”

“The hell are you going on about?” Bobby says, stomping into the room

“There’s demons in the Walmart, and I think I’m in labor,” Deana says, wheezing.

For a moment, there’s a look of pure shock on the old hunter’s face, then he says, “Balls!”

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't get the reference, _Where The Heart Is_ stars Natalie Portman as a superstitious pregnant teenager who gets dumped by her jackass boyfriend, then lives in a Walmart for six weeks until she gives birth in the store. And yes, it's based on a true story. 'Merica!
> 
> Also, it is possible to suffer from nausea throughout an entire pregnancy. That's not necessarily exclusive to the early days. Fun, right? *stares into the camera like Jim from "The Office"*


	9. Bring It On Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam hasn’t been this sleep-deprived since his first hell week at Stanford. He stares at the DVD that mysteriously appears in Gabriel’s hands, totally at a loss for what’s happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have fucking finally finished this fic. If you started reading when I first started posting, all the cookies to you for sticking with it. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

“Can’t sleep?”

Sam’s mug shatters on the linoleum floor. Chamomile tea oozes in every direction.

“What the _hell_, Gabriel!”

The archangel chuckles and snaps his fingers, and the spilled liquid and shards of ceramic disappear. Sam accepts the steaming mug back with a grumbled thanks.

“Trust me, you’re going to want the caffeine,” Gabriel says, before Sam can protest.

“No, I want to sleep,” Sam gripes.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.”

Gabriel snaps his fingers again, and Sam reels as his overly tired brain fights to register his new surroundings. Sam’s legs hit the back of something soft, and he plops down onto the recliner, somehow managing to not spill a single drop of coffee.

“Why are we in the Fortress of Dean-itute?” Sam demands. He’s too groggy to remember he’s supposed to hate Dean’s nickname for the TV room.

“Because…” Gabriel says, with an exaggerated air of exasperation, “We’re going to watch a movie!”

“Please tell me it’s not porn.”

Gabriel feigns a gasp.

“I would never! Although…Did you and other-me watch—”

“No!” Sam shouts, struggling to stand up from the ridiculously comfy chair. He shoves the mug back at Gabriel’s chest, and the angel grabs it reflexively.

“I haven’t slept right for a _week_,” Sam whines. “There are certain things you should _never_ have to listen to, and overhearing my brother beg for our best friend to fuck him harder is one of those things!”

Gabriel winces. “Yeah, I popped in just outside their room, and they were going at it like bunnies on PCP. But if it’s any consolation, it sounds like my baby bro is equally as enthusiastic about being pounded into the mattress as your big bro is.”

Sam sinks back down onto the recliner, massaging his temples.

“Great. I’ll just add that to the list of things I wish I didn’t know.”

In the past seven days since Dean and Cas have made up, Sam has accidentally walked in on them no less than eighteen times. None of those times were in a bedroom. The Impala, the map room table, the dryer in the laundry room, you name it—if it was possible to fuck on, in, or against, chances were, Dean and Cas have done it there. There isn’t enough brain bleach in the world to forget all of that, let alone enough real bleach to sanitize the entire bunker.

“Any chance you can mojo this place clean of sex germs?” Sam requests, staring up at Gabriel with weary eyes.

“No problem. I’ll even use my mojo to let you sleep peacefully for the next hours, no funny business guaranteed.”

“What’s the catch?” Sam asks, wary.

Gabriel shakes his head and heaves a theatrical sigh.

“Ye of little faith. But yes, I do want you to do something in return, and actually, you want you to do it too, so when you think about it, I’m actually doing you more than one favor here.”

“What?”

Sam hasn’t been this sleep-deprived since his first hell week at Stanford. He stares at the DVD that mysteriously appears in Gabriel’s hands, totally at a loss for what’s happening.

“What?” Sam repeats. Gabriel gives him a pitying look.

“For fuck’s sake. You’re completely out of it,” he says. “Look, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go back to your room and sleep for as long as your little Disney princess heart desires. I’m going to go and sound-proof Dean-o and Cassie-poo’s room. Then tomorrow, you’re going to watch this with them.”

Gabriel brandishes the clear plastic DVD case in front of Sam’s nose.

“Deal?”

“Uh…”

“Great!”

The last thing Sam’s over-fried brain registers before he passes out is the sound of Gabriel’s fingers clicking together.

* * *

Sam’s laptop whirs as Gabriel’s DVD loads. The video starts right away. Sam can hear Dean and Cas echo his gasp as the young man on the screen begins to speak.

_“Hello. I’m Jack. I know this is probably a little strange for you. Mom told me that there was another Jack in your universe, too, and that she named me after him. Again, I’m sorry if this is weird.”_

Damn right, it’s a little strange. The kid looks almost exactly like Jack, but there’s a softness to his face that makes him look a little younger physically than their Jack did.

_“I wanted to come see you in person, but I’m…well, currently grounded from ‘inter-dimensional travel.’ It’s a long story. Let’s just say I didn’t know that Pandora was actually a real planet. Anyway, I wanted to get a message to you guys so you would know how it all turned out.”_

The camera shakes a little as the other Jack walks down a hallway lined with family pictures.

_“But first…someone has something they want to say,” _the on-screen Jack says. He aims the camera at a middle aged couple relaxing on a well-worn couch. Sam can hear the muffled sounds of a television show playing in the background. The camera zooms in on the woman.

“She looks like Mom,” Dean murmurs.

Deana’s wavy hair is more brown than blonde, with a few lighter strands of hair near her temples, but Dean’s right. The resemblance to Mary is striking. Her jawline isn’t as sharp as when Sam last saw her, and there are a couple of faint creases on her forehead under her wispy bangs. Even so, she’s beautiful.

Jack’s camera pans over to the man sitting next to Deana. There’s a significant amount of grey in his dark hair and in his stubble. He’s wearing jeans and a flannel over a t-shirt, just like Deana, but there’s no denying who he is.

“Damn, Cas. Talk about a silver fox,” Dean says, waggling his eyebrows at the angel next to him.

Sam rolls his eyes. Castiel looks pleased, but makes a shushing noise when the video zooms out and the other Jack starts to speak again.

_“Hey guys! I’m making a video to send with Uncle Gabriel. Got anything to say to Sam, Dean, and their Cas?”_

_“‘Sup,” _Deana says, barely taking her eyes off the TV.

_“Hello,” _the other Castiel says, with an awkward wave. He patiently takes the remote away from Deana and pauses their show.

_“You’ve seen this episode of ‘Doctor Sexy’ at least eight times.”_

_“Fine,” _Deana sighs, but she smiles at Cas all the same. She reaches out and Jack passes the camera over. The video skips as Deana switches to a front-facing lens.

_“Alright then._ _Dean, if you didn’t listen to what I told you, you’re a fucking moron.”_

_“Mom!” _they hear Jack’s voice say, and then the other Cas sighs and goes,_“Deana!” _but there’s no real ire in his voice. Sam gets the impression that this Castiel gets onto Deana so frequently for swearing that he does it now mostly out of habit.

_“What? I’m just being honest,” _Deana says. _“Anyway. Castiel, I meant what I said. I hope you took my advice.”_

_“Anything else?” _Jack’s voice asks.

_“Thanks again, other Sammy. Don’t let those other idiots drag you down.”_

_“Um. Okay. Dad?” _Jack’s voice says. Deana hands the camera over to the other Cas.

_“Sam, thank you for everything,” _he says. There are more crinkles around this Castiel's eyes than his counterpart, but his expression is no less soul-piercingly sincere. “_Dean, try not to be so hard on yourself—we all make mistakes. And Castiel…listen to your heart. Trust what it tells you. It’s usually right.”_

The camera sways as Deana nudges Cas with her shoulder.

_“Aw, you’re such a dork.”_

_“I’m your dork.”_

_“Yeah,” _Deana agrees. “_And I’m yours. Don't ever change, Cas.”_

She leans into view and kisses him.

_“Ew!”_

The video blurs with an upside-down image of a living room, then the view of indistinguishably-colored carpet and Jack’s feet. One of his socks has the AC/DC logo, and the other is covered with cartoon bumblebees.

_“Sorry, honey,” _Deana says, somewhere in the background.

The video skips again, and this time they see Jack leaning against a mahogany headboard. His pillowcase is patterned with lightning bolts and Golden Snitches. There’s a vintage-looking _Clone Wars _poster behind the bed, and a lava lamp on the nightstand. Next to the glowing yellow lamp is a framed Polaroid picture of a younger Samantha, Deana, and Castiel in front of Bobby’s scrapyard. Deana holds a beaming toddler in her arms. One of the boy’s chubby fists is wrapped around Cas’ tie, and the other is waving at whoever took the picture.

_“I guess that’s about it,” _the other Jack says, just as happy as he was in the photograph. “_Oh! I almost forgot. Aunt Samantha says to tell you hello. She took over running the hunter network from Uncle Bobby, but now she operates out of the Men of Letters bunker. That place is so awesome! But Mom and Dad want me to focus on school first, give college a try before I think about being a hunter._

_“Anyway, you’re still probably wondering how everything turned out this way, so I’ll go back to the beginning…”_

* * *

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Be sure to leave kudos or a comment to let me know what you think! :)


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